


A toast to you/me

by yeahwrite



Category: Marvel, Venom (Comics), Venom - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Bar, Both Rex's Deserved Better, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Identity Issues, Memories, Swearing, Veterans, Volunteer Work, pre-Venom 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-06 10:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahwrite/pseuds/yeahwrite
Summary: Rex Strickland has an annual tradition that he always does without fail.A single night, dedicated to reflection and tribute.And this year is no exception to that.





	A toast to you/me

“I’ll take that for you, son.” Rex offered, already moving to take the massive box from the struggling young veteran.

“No, no, I have it I have it!” Jeong only protested though, adamantly shaking his head and trying to shift out of reach, to move the box himself.

Rex warily eyed the thing wobbling though, not too sure about that assessment himself.

Looked like a disaster waiting to happen.

“I ain’t so sure about that, son. If this is some damn matter of pride shit, you’re only going to end up unnecessarily hurting yourself.”

Jeong glowered briefly, shifting the box in his hands before than shaking his own head.

“Not pride. _Practice_. I was told I had to get used to the new hand. I’m not going to get used to it if you _mollycoddle_ me.”

Strickland raised an eyebrow at this mollycoddling accusation – and then he chuckled.

“ _Hah_! Alright, alright. Don’t say I’m ever one to _mollycoddle_.” Rex then shrugged, an amused smile on his face.

“But I’ll put this straight to you - don’t push it. You’re a good man, you’ve got nothing else to prove. If you need help, ask someone. I depended on my team back in the day, more times than I can count. Ain’t any shame in it at all.”  

He went to move past him then to where he was originally headed, although not without firmly clasping a shoulder first.

“Promise?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good man.”

He left him too it then, rather than delaying Jeong from his task any longer.

Although even as he walked off, thinking it was probably best to get this clarified, he still called back –

“But, in half an hour it’s gonna need to be someone else in here you ask. I’m heading out early tonight.”

 

* * *

 

And not for the same reasons as on the rare occasion he’d left early before, looking for time sensitive leads on his teammates.

Or well, technically this _was_ about a teammate.

In a way.

Standing in the doorway of the veterans’ shelter, Rex took a deep breath of fresh air.

And then he stepped out of it, taking one step after another to head to his destination, tucking his jacked collar up.

He didn’t really feel the cold, not in the same way humans did, but he felt more comfortable going through the motions.

Acting like he did.

Like he was supposed to.

Like the good man he was being would.

He’d gotten very good at that by now.

It was the best he could do for the original Rex Strickland, after all.

Letting him live on, like that.

Through him.

Especially since…

Especially since it had been on _this_ night, through _his_ failure, that his partner had died those years ago…

 

* * *

 

Being in a city, it didn’t take too long to find a bar and Rex wasted no time in entering it and taking a seat.

“What would you like to drink sir?”

Rex gave his answer with no hesitation.

It was the same beer he had every year on this occasion, one that the original Strickland had always favoured.

Rex had plenty of pleasant memories that weren’t his gleamed from a brain that wasn’t his, related to that.

From getting together with teammates after a fight to wind down and have a laugh, to messing around with some friends back home, to having a first birthday drink with a proud father, boasting about his son now being a _man_.

And in time, he’d of course come to gain his own, new Rex memories related to the default drink too.

Even before enough time had passed, for this annual tradition to have started.

One of the very first ones being on his first leave from S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

* * *

 

_The klyntar bearing the identity of Rex Strickland, had done many an incredibly dangerous thing without any hesitation._

_Faced missions deemed impossible._

_But this…this felt more impossible than any of them._

_Meeting ‘his’ parents._

_He-_

_“Do you want to talk about what’s wrong Rex?” His ‘father’ asked, nudging him._

_“Huh? Nothing.” Rex started, before shaking his head and trying to take another drink from the ‘welcome home’ beer he’d been bought._

_“Ain’t anything wrong. Just damn tired is all.”_

_A sad look was given to him._

_“I know my son. Your mom’s worried too. You’ve been acting off since you got home. Nothing like the sweet little kid I used to play catch with.”_

_Panic flared through Rex at this._

_Had he been doing it wrong?! He couldn’t have been doing it wrong! He’d tried so hard to be faithful to Rex, too although him to live on in the only manner he could!_

_Where had he been going wrong?!_

_What had he done wrong?!_

_Was it little, was it salvageable or was he butchering his name entirely?!_

_“I don’t blame you, Rex.” His panicked thoughts were then cut out by a familiar voice, that was only familiar because of stolen memories._

_‘Rex’ himself had only met the man in person hours ago._

_…But the overwhelming gentleness and kindness in that gruff voice…all the same, felt just as calming, just as reassuring as they had been to a young boy crying over a broken leg._

_“I know what it’s like. Must have been hell out there.”_

_“It was. Good men died. A lot of good men. Ones who should have gotten to come home.”_

_Like your son._

_A deep, sad sigh from the father sitting next to him, who deserved far better too._

_As did his mother at home._

_Or…well…not his…not…technically, they would be horrified if they knew just what they were really talking too, but…he meant…he-_

 

* * *

 

“And here’s your drinks!”

Rex Strickland was abruptly broken out of memories of his father, with a happy voice and the placing down of his drinks.

“Will your company be arriving shortly? Do you want me to point your table out to them?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Thanks for the drinks.” 

He pressed a $20 note into their hands – “Keep the change.” – before making his way too that table and sitting down.

One drink on his side and one on the other.

A sip taken, one from both – Rex had always taken a sip straight away as a force of habit, looking forward to the taste – and him forcing not to let his nose crinkle.

He remembered how it _should_ taste, could see full well why the original had liked it, but at the same time, he’d never tasted that.

To him…to klyntar flesh only _emulating_ human taste buds…drinking the beer wasn’t pleasant in the slightest.

Left a _nasty_ aftertaste and felt wrong.

He would definitely need to eat something with phenethylamine later to counteract it.

But he was Rex and so he would _force_ himself to enjoy it now.

Especially tonight.

“Been a helluva damn year.” Rex mused.

“And who knows what crap is going to have gone down by next anniversary.”

Hopefully at least he’ll have found his team by then. Have the men all back together.

Except…

“Would have been nice if you could have seen it all though.”

All except a _vital_ part of _himself_.

The _noble_ part who had introduced him to the light.

“So, here’s a toast-”

A raised toast, towards the glass on the other side - and a bittersweet look to go along with it.

“To _you_ – _me_ – and to the _we,_ that should have been.”

_Clink._


End file.
